


落湯雞

by sevenzeroseven



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, just some lin annoying shang ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ), set post-movie and pre-s2, the usual ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenzeroseven/pseuds/sevenzeroseven
Summary: Lin smiles to himself. Not to mention, Shang took a good fright to seeing him undressed and indecent earlier that morning. That had been a good expression, one of Shang's best.





	1. Chapter 1

Lin comes and goes as he pleases. Sometimes Shang is more inclined to entertain him than others. Ultimately, he knows that’s all he is to him—entertainment. He can’t say the notion sits well with him, but his initial alarm at being followed despite expressly forbidding so has faded. It's turned into a dull roar of irritation instead, a mosquito of annoyance spreading his likeness across the country. He’s yet to divine Lin’s end in all of this, but he has his suspicions from what he already knows of the crook.

Shang’s efforts to lay low had been dashed as soon as he was unlucky enough to cross the Enigmatic Gale’s path. He’s more or less resigned himself to it at this point, but that doesn't mean he has to make it easy for him.

He tears down the poster as soon as they come upon it, this one probably the replica of a replica of a replica because it's so far from the truth that this "Shang Bu Huan" might as well be someone else entirely. For one, he does not have that big of a nose. Crumpling the page in his hands, Lin comes up behind him just as he tosses it aside.

"That's not a very courteous gesture of you, Sir Shang. I am sure someone put many hours into that portrait and earnestly spreading the myth of the great hero from Xi You."

Shang swivels on the thief who looks as unperturbed as ever and points a finger at his chest, that ridiculous zippered get-up. "If you tell me you put this up yourself, I'm going to laugh you out of town."

Lin hums and sweeps his hair behind his shoulder. "Maybe it was."

"Then you're a terrible artist, man." Shang pivots back around and continues without waiting for Lin to follow. Indeed, he hopes that the other won't, but of course he's not so lucky. After a pause, there's the sound of robes trailing after him, the steady inhale and exhale of a pipe.

“So, where are we going?”

The fact that Lin Xue Ya has the gall to say 'we' at all almost has Shang pausing and doing a double take, but he doesn't want to give the other the satisfaction. So, he continues walking, the settlement growing quieter and smaller behind them, as he offers a scoff instead. He supposes any outsider _would_ consider them a 'we.' Somehow, they'd shared a room not once but _twice_ , and here they are again—together.

“We?" he asks, nonetheless intent on stubbornly rejecting the situation. "There is no we. There’s only you and I.”

“Ah, yes, well commonly that’s referred to as ‘we.’”

Lin's voice drips with self-satisfaction, and Shang thinks back to Seven Sins Tower. Apparently, Lin makes a sport out of stealing 'pride' and 'ego,' but it seems to him that Lin has the biggest ego of them all. Shang looks forward to the day the man is forced to take a dose of his own medicine.

Waving aside the rebuttal, he clears his throat. He isn't going to argue semantics with a thief and instead stresses, “ _I’m_ continuing with my original objective.”

"To dispose of your collection of mythical swords, yes?"

"...Yes," Shang affirms after a pause, casting a distrustful glare over his shoulder that Lin responds to with a lackadaisical wave of his pipe.

"As I said, you have nothing of value for me to steal. Rest assured."

Nothing of value, right. For some reason, that doesn't reassure him at all. Any normal person would elaborate, but Lin goes silent while continuing to shadow him. The ghostly footsteps are enough of a distraction that he turns around again, less than ten minutes later, with as constipated an expression as he wore earlier that morning when he woke to a near-naked Lin Xue Ya brazenly parading before him.

"If you're going to follow me like a gnat, then you might as well tell me something," he snaps, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms as he continues to walk backwards. He wants to see the liar's face and his reactions even as he knows the other is probably too skilled for him to make anything of them.

Lin smiles, amused, with red eyes flashing in the sunlight slanting through the leaves and illuminating his pallor.

"What is it that the honorable Shang Bu Huan wants to know?" he returns, voice curling sweetly around his name. Shang refrains from commenting lest he gets waylaid.

"You never did get into the details of your relationship with Xing Hai. Or Wu Sheng, for that matter."

"Oh?" Lin matches his expression with an uptick in his tone and lifts the lip of his pipe. "Didn't I? There's not much else to tell. I didn't think the honorable Shang Bu Huan would be so interested in the affairs of others."

"Less interested," Shang immediately corrects as he gives up backpedaling. There's nothing to be gained from the Enigmatic Gale's, well, enigma. He reorients himself facing forward and unwittingly slows for Lin to catch up. "More... well. You can learn a lot about a place from stories."

About people too. He really isn't interested per se—something tells him the less he knows about Lin Xue Ya the better—but Lin is like a persistent itch he can't help scratching. If it isn't going to go away, then he might as well make the best of it. That's his reasoning anyway; he isn't sure how he's going to keep it from biting him in the ass.

"Oh-ho. I see." They've fallen in step with one another, Lin watching Shang's side profile now with a certain attentiveness. "You have a rogue's mien and an official's resourcefulness. Are you certain you weren't a soldier back in Xi You?”

"Oi, oi, we're talking about you here, not me."

"Hmm, yes, your manner of speech does seem too unrefined to be government."

Shang throws Lin an unkind look and quickens again. "Man, shut the hell up."

They return to silence with Shang clearing the way and Lin content to follow behind.

A good hour or so passes. Lin silently muses to himself during that time while taking too much enjoyment from just how _on guard_ Shang is to have Lin walk behind him. He can practically see the muscles tensing in his neck. It's slightly endearing. So wary except when he most needs to be. Such as when he obediently wore a bag Lin had handed him without having the faintest idea what it did. Lin had reassured him when he'd started choking and spitting that it wouldn't kill him, and it hadn't, but it very well could have.

For all his impressive prowess, Lin can't see Shang living very long. His name is very fitting then, _unconcerned with dying young_. His parents must have been either very carefree or very macabre, and Shang has lived up to expectations perfectly. Any two-bit villain could fool him, knowing his magnanimity. He's no challenge at all, but that doesn't mean he's not a mystery Lin's interested in solving. There may be nothing more there than a heart that'll eventually get him killed, but he won't know until he tries, will he?

Lin smiles to himself. Not to mention, Shang took a good fright to seeing him undressed and indecent earlier that morning. That had been a good expression, one of Shang's best.

He's already assumed Shang's destination from the direction he's taken, but now he's sure of it. There's only one settlement large enough to attract any attention this way, and Shang has started running himself in confused circles. The forests here are dense and the fog that comes with nightfall even denser. The maze arrays are also difficult to navigate and reinforced with illusion magic, a defense mechanism.

Lin continues following in dumb silence until Shang finally stops and taps his temple in contemplative frustration, a rather charming tic of his.

"Oh, great hero Shang Bu Huan, you wouldn't happen to have lost your way, would you?"

"Shut up," he immediately barks, turning where he stands to look this way and that.

Lin sidles up to him innocently. "Dong Li is a vast country for a foreigner. Are you sure you don't need a guide?"

"Who? You?" Shang snorts, giving Lin only a passing glance before looking away again with a half-scoff, half-laugh. "You're more likely to lead me into a lion's den. I can find my own way."

Lin tuts. "You're rather sensitive for the battle-hardened, chivalrous hero, aren't you? Still holding a grudge? I already told you that your ignorance was crucial to the plan. Don't take it so personally."

"Yeah, well, I don't care to be a part of anyone's plans, least of all yours."

"Be that as it may," Lin concedes, taking a draught of his pipe. "I do happen to have business in this area right now. Friends that may be useful to your quest as well. Wouldn't it make sense for us long-time acquaintances to travel together then? Help one another?"

Shang gives Lin an incredulous look, one of many he's given him since knowing him. The pause he takes is lengthy and calculating, narrowed gaze raking over Lin for insincerity. "...Friends," he finally deadpans. "You mean enemies to manipulate into doing your bidding's more like it."

"Nonsense." Lin takes the lead, offering Shang a knowing grin over his shoulder. "I consider you a very good friend, Bu Huan."

"Ha." The single syllable is dry and mocking at best, more wry defeat than laughter. "Is that supposed to be a good thing? None of your 'friends' seem to live very long."

Lin doesn't answer this time, and Shang knows he doesn't need to. He's right. Shang's a stranger to this land. When he first entered the country, he'd made his way based on sheer luck and intuition alone.

When Lin is nearly out of hearing range, Shang finally clicks his teeth in agitation and starts moving again. "Tch. Fine. Do whatever you want," he calls. "Just keep your distance from me."

Lin smirks to himself, taking more pleasure from this forgone victory than he had anticipated. "I'll take that for assent."


	2. 欲罢不能

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one of the instances where lin and shang have had to share a room aka rest in pieces shang

The skies heralded rain. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he’d be stuck outdoors.

Shang sighed and scratched his temple contemplatively as he stepped out from the awning of the nth inn that’d rejected him. So, all of the cheap places were full then. That only left the handful of fancier ones on the other side of town, which he’d been avoiding for the sake of his finances (or lack thereof). It looked like he didn’t have much of a choice at this point. It was either that or sleeping in the rain. As much as he didn’t mind travelling through it, he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in days. It was just his luck that he happened upon the next settlement during the throes of festival season.

Looking both ways down the crowded street, Shang took off for the rich part of town. The rivers of people thinned somewhat the farther he walked but just barely. Every building seemed to have red lanterns strung up, and the sweet scent of candies or the savory smell of dumplings permeated the streets. They reminded him of Xi You’s festivals, difference being he hadn’t the faintest clue what Dong Li was celebrating. But the atmosphere was light and cheerful, and it made Shang feel more optimistic about his chances of securing lodging.

Which were, apparently, too optimistic. The first innkeeper he approached turned him down based on appearances alone. The second one was full. The third one was full _and_ tried to extort him for payment to sleep in their shed, which he politely declined. The fourth one—Shang glanced up at the opulent, multi-floored structure with its painted wooden eaves and laughed at himself. Might as well not even try, but just as he was about to turn away, the first drops of rain splattered onto his head.

Shang paused, held out a hand, and watched the water slowly collect in the lines of his palm. He refrained from sighing again, a rueful smile tugging at the edges of his lips instead. Well, last ditch effort. He weaved past the people already dodging for cover and entered the inn.

Then immediately stiffened.

“You—!“

His head cut him off too late. The figure had his back to him. If he hadn’t said anything, leaving unnoticed wasn’t an impossibility, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he’d damned himself.

Lin pivoted around from where he’d been leaning against the counter, and a very exaggerated feint of surprise crossed his expression. “Oh-ho? I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Sir Shang.”

“You bastard!” Shang bit out, unintentional volume of his voice startling a few of the patrons milling in from the outside. “You’ve been following me this entire time, haven’t you?”

“My, what a heavy accusation to throw around. That’s not very becoming of the chivalrous hero. You’re not the only one looking for lodging in this weather.” Lin made a sweeping gesture with his pipe hand before taking a puff from it.

Shang tsked and turned, intent on not letting Lin ensnare him in any more verbal traps, but before he could get a step beyond the threshold, Lin spoke again.

“Oh, Sir Shang? Where are you going?”

“Where’s it look like?” Shang threw over his shoulder. “I’ll take my chances with the weather.”

Lin hummed skeptically. “Is that so? Even when there’s still vacancies?”

Shang paused, and Lin affected a discreet grin before pushing off the edge of the table and sauntering to Shang’s side.

“Just one, unfortunately. That I’ve occupied.”

Shang snorted. “So, no vacancies then.” He took another step forward.

“Not precisely.”

Shang sighed, right hand falling from the door to press against in brow in consternation. Any sane person would have already left and slammed the door in Lin’s smug face. So what did that say about him that he hadn’t?

“Then what the hell _are_ you saying?”

Shang retreated from the door to let out a young girl, who passed Lin an admiring look and then Shang an odd one. Lin took the opportunity to crowd in on him, wedging himself between him and the egress.

“That the last room happens to have two beds and, given the hour and the situation, I had no choice but to take it.”

Shang’s expression went flat in a split second. He felt he had a grasp on where this was going now.

“Oh, yeah?” he snorted, raising an eyebrow at the Enigmatic Gale. “Is that right? Just happened to have two beds.”

“Fortuitously, yes. And, seeing as how my umbrella offering apparently wasn’t of much use to you...” Lin looked him up and down. His eyes unabashedly raked over him like appraising merchandise for auction. “Consider this my alternative repayment,” he finished and inhaled from his pipe once more.

Shang wasn’t convinced. Lin didn’t seem like he was lying, but Shang hadn’t thought he’d been lying about the ‘parting’ gift either. The umbrella had been one thing, but this was just... continued entanglement. Not that he didn’t already feel hopelessly entangled. How was it that he and Lin only seemed to be getting more and more involved with one another?

Lin made a better vulture than he did a crow.

“Well, Bu Huan?” Lin prompted when his silence dragged, exasperation playing across his face in lieu of words. “You won’t accept my help or my guidance. Surely a night’s lodging is innocent enough?”

“With how twisted you are, who can say?” Shang returned. Between bracing the rain or bracing the wind, he was seriously considering the former, but his body had already given up. He sorely needed a bed for the night, even if it was Lin’s bed. Being stubborn wasn’t going to help him. He didn’t hate Lin either; he just didn’t trust him.

“What’s the catch?” he asked once he’d taken a few steps back into the interior. Lin, seeing that he’d won, affected a pleased grin.

“Didn’t you hear me say repayment?”

“Humor me.”

“Then.” Lin paused. Shang made an impatient gesture for him to go ahead because hell if he knew where the room was. Lin bit the lip of his pipe between his teeth as he took he cue and passed him, the scent of smoke and blossoms trailing after him. “The pleasure of your company.”

Shang scoffed but said nothing. His hand found the banister of the stairs Lin had started ascending, and he traced his way upward. If not for Lin, he might have been able to afford _half_ a night here at most. Even half would have been fine, though, compared to the alternatives. On second thought, maybe it was a bit foolhardy to believe Lin at face value about the vacancies...

“You’re a far more interesting man than you pass yourself off to be,” Lin continued, breaking Shang’s musing. “I dare say that we’re not so different in that respect.”

Shang scoffed again. “Is that supposed to be high praise coming from you? Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m just a traveler with a bunch of unwanted wares, so we’re nothing alike.”

They passed the first landing, and Lin turned for the second. A few more people gave Shang odd looks. He supposed he really did stand out in this setting.

Lin hummed. Once he reached the second landing, he suddenly stopped, and Shang nearly ran into his back.

“What the—“

“Then tell me, Sir Shang, why do I find you so endlessly amusing?” Lin swiveled around, and his hair followed him, settling across his shoulder in fine, silvery strands. Shang was still a step below him, so when Lin leaned forward, he filled Shang’s entire vision. Shang could make out every individual eyelash and the smooth texture of his skin. The word ‘aristocratic’ crossed his mind. ‘Beautiful,’ even.

Funny how the personality didn’t reflect that at all.

Shang tore his gaze away and pointedly stepped around him. “Don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. I’ll be leaving in the morning anyway, and I’ll be damned if I let you catch up to me again, so it doesn’t matter.”

Shang made a sharp turn to the left only to hear Lin’s light laughter behind him. Shang bristled and threw the thief a glare. Lin reciprocated with another grin, nodding his head to the right. “The other way.”

Lin took his time unlocking the door, long enough that Shang had started questioning his options again. But while they had been quarreling—if this qualified as quarreling—the rain had grown from a soft murmur to a steady batter over their heads. Shang even thought he heard the occasional rumble of thunder. Sleeping outside definitely wasn’t a possibility.

The door finally gave way, and Shang could see that the room was even more extravagant than the ones they’d rented with Lin's group of villains. In fact, it was hard to believe anyone lower than noble standing would have been able to.

“Oi, oi,” Shang commented as he shut the door behind him with his elbow. “What is this place? How’d you swing a room?”

“I have my methods,” Lin answered vaguely. “You didn’t question any of the accommodations I acquired for us in the past.”

“Yeah, that’s because—what’re you doing?”

Lin had already unbuckled the clasps across his front and pulled the zipper halfway down his torso when Shang thought to question him. Lin shifted to face him fully from the bedside. Shang had been so preoccupied checking out the room that he hadn’t notice Lin divest himself of his headpieces. They sat at the foot of the bed.

“Undressing?” he returned, lilt at the end of the question almost genuine confusion if he wasn’t so clearly tickled.

“Here?” Shang blustered.

“Yes? This is a bedroom?” Lin had only paused for a moment. His free hand returned to the zipper and pulled it down the rest of the way.

Shang turned his back to the man just as he heard heavy fabric pool to the floor.

“Come now, Bu Huan. We’re both men.”

“That’s—“ Shang suddenly felt hot under the collar, but admitting that felt like losing. Losing what? Hell if he knew. “You really have no shame, huh? You know what, don’t answer that. I’m going for a walk.”

“In the rain?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t forget to take an umbrella.”

“I don’t need one!”

Shang let the door slam behind him on Lin’s chuckling.

He’d said he didn’t need one, but when he reached the first floor, one was being offered to him anyway.

“You are Sir Gui Niao’s guest, yes?”

The innkeeper stopped him just as he was passing by. In his agitation, Shang nearly ignored him entirely. That, and his head tripped up for a moment hearing Lin’s pseudonym.

“Sure,” he said after a brief pause, chagrin coloring the syllable. He’d just wanted to sleep, but now thanks to ‘Gui Niao’... This all felt very familiar.

The man rummaged around for a moment. When he turned to face Shang again, he held a bright, red umbrella in his hand.

“Please, take this with you.” He inclined his head respectfully, and the initial rejection on Shang’s lips turned to acceptance.

“Ah, sure then. Thanks.”

He took the instrument with a slight incline of his own head. To be honest, red umbrellas had inextricably become linked with Lin in his mind. He would’ve been happy if he never saw another in his life, but it seemed life liked to work against him.

He opened the umbrella as soon as he stepped outside, but he could still feel droplets of water being whipped at him by an intemperate wind. The streets had completely emptied by now; abandoned lanterns swayed desolately, buoyed this way and that. It was a stark contrast to the festivities of earlier that evening.

Shang paid no mind to it and trudged on.

If he hadn’t been tired, he’d have continued traveling. The inn sat at the northern edge of town, which was in the direction he was heading. There were forests and a river this way. The river had probably already started flooding from the mad rushing of water Shang could hear even from this distance. He tried looking ahead, but the storm created sheets of rain to impair his vision. Scouting the route, then, seemed impossible. At least, he figured, he must have delayed enough for Lin to undress. Still, he decided to walk a bit farther.

The storm waxed and waned. By the time he passed the settlement walls and reached the edge of the forest with its smattering of trees, the rain had momentarily quelled to a drizzle.

Taking a walk had been a good idea to clear his thoughts if nothing else. Lin always managed to turn them upside down, but Shang felt he was getting used to his antics. Slowly, but surely.

“Shit,” Shang muttered, shaking his head. “That’s not a good thing.”

Only the chattering leaves answered him as a strong gust of wind swept through. It carried a blade with it.

Shang jerked aside with a small surge of qi and stopped the weapon with his cape. It dropped to the mud, lost to the murkiness.

“Oi, didn’t you know it’s rude not to greet someone before trying to kill them?” he asked, projecting his voice deeper into the forest from where the knife aimed at his neck had originated.

He thought he heard a disgruntled _tch_ before the assailant dropped from his perch within the trees. There was hardly any light around this far out and in this weather, but Shang managed to make out the silhouette of a young man covered from head to toe in dark clothing. The outline of a sword sat on his back.

“Eh? And here I thought the Enigmatic Gale wouldn’t be able to find anyone on the Screaming Phoenix Killer’s level again. Looks like I have my work cut out for me after all.”

Before Shang could even respond, the other had crossed the space separating them and drawn his sword. Metal clashed against silver wood in a sharp clang.

“Hey, didn’t you hear me say it was rude not to give a greeting?” Shang fended him back, and he retreated again to a distance, readying for another attack. Shang sighed, maintaining his left-handed grip on the umbrella. The rain was starting to pick up again. “Suppose I shouldn’t expect that much from an assassin, but what’s this about the Enigmatic Gale?”

Hearing him and Lin being so naturally associated with one another made his brow dip into a frown.

“You tell me. You’re his bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Shang parried a blow from his left then this right; another knife came at his neck, which he knocked askance. “If that’s the misunderstanding, then you can stow your weapon right now. I’m not his bodyguard.”

The figure paused, straightening. “Oh? Haven’t you been protecting him? If not, you should’ve just laid down and died.”

“Protecting _myself_ ,” Shang corrected. “No way I’m giving my life for his. Or because of him.”

The stranger didn’t seem convinced. In the blink of an eye, they were exchanging blows again, ones Shang tempered to be evenly matched. Close combat clearly wasn’t the other’s forte; he kept trying to slip in a sneak attack here and there, but there weren’t so many openings in Shang’s guard.

“Look,” Shang managed while pushing the other back, blade against edgeless blade. He’d thrown the umbrella aside and distantly hoped it hadn’t torn like last time. “If you have business to settle with him, I’ll take you there right now. He can fight his own battles.”

They were close enough that Shang could see the boy’s eyes narrow. “I already know where he is. It’d be faster to kill you than to believe you.”

With a sudden burst of effort, Shang was thrown back.

“Oi—!”

Shang moved on instinct. Not a killing blow, but a glancing one that drew blood. The boy’s figure crumpled instantly. His hand moved to the new gash in his side with a sharp exhale lost to the rain. That’d slow him down, Shang thought, though he hoped it’d convince him to retreat.

Before either of them could make another move, a pair of voices sounded behind them, loud and jarring.

“Hey! What’s going on over there!”

As soon as light was shed upon the scene, Shang was alone with a drawn weapon and blood dripping off the blade. Beyond the glow of lanterns, he could make out the dark masks and armor of Dong Li’s lawmen.

“I’m—“ Shang immediately sheathed his sword but not quickly enough it seemed. They drew theirs simultaneously.

“Who are you!”

Shang raised both of his hands in a show of pacifism. He had the premonition that he wasn’t going to be believed regardless.

Just as he opened his mouth to stumble through an explanation, another voice joined the fray. This one made him tense up even further.

“Is something the matter?”

With one sentence, Shang suddenly became a footnote in the conversation. Both men swung around on the spot, giving him their unguarded backs. A third circle of light merged with the other two.

“Sir Gui Niao! Please return to your lodging. It isn’t safe out here.”

Shang nearly rolled his eyes seeing the lawmen bow to Lin and just managed to bite his tongue from making a snappy retort. The most dangerous thing out here was _him_ , assassin included.

“Hm?” Lin murmured and leaned past the constables to catch Shang’s gaze.

Shang blinked. Lin had let his hair down; all of his daytime accessories had been set aside too, even his extraneous silks and belts. He was wearing a simple, single-layer robe tinted pale blue and very much looked the part of sheltered aristocrat. He supposed he couldn’t blame them for being fooled.

Lin’s smile, previously warm, turned slightly unnerving within a fraction of a second as his attention refocused.

“Has my guest caused some trouble?”

“Your... guest?” The one on the right threw his light in Shang’s direction, incredulity high in his tone.

Shang really had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping now. He was soaked through at this point and very much aware of it. A bone-deep chill had settled in too, but he was suddenly more annoyed than cold and weary. The ground slipped and slid under his feet, packed dirt having turned to mud when he wasn’t looking. Meaning his clothes were probably muddy too.

“This man is Sir Gui Niao’s guest?”

“That’s right,” Lin affirmed.

Shang said nothing, complicit by omission, as he walked past the constables and then straight on past Lin without sparing him a glance.

He heard them exchange a few more words behind him, mostly blustering apologies on the government’s side. By the time he crossed back into the city limits, Lin had caught up to him in a few long strides.

An umbrella wouldn’t do much, if anything, for him at this point, but Lin still squeezed up real close so they could share the single canopy between them. In his left hand was the light, casting a muted, flickering glow amidst the wind turned breeze and torrent turned mist.

“You’re all wet, Bu Huan,” was the first thing he said, earning him a side glare from the addressed. “Did the innkeeper not give you the umbrella I left with him?”

“You—“ Shang broke off with a grimace and decided not to pursue the diversion. “You show your face in town, and there’s immediately people who want you dead, huh?”

“Hm? It seems you’ve had an adventure on your walk. Never a boring moment with Sir Shang, I see.”

“Are you kidding me?” Shang snapped, irritation finally boiling over. “This was all _your_ doing!”

“As was my intervention with those constables back there.”

Shang threw Lin a disbelieving look, furrowed brow and all. A snarl was already at his lips before, suddenly, he decided to clasp his hands together in a fist and palm salute instead.

“Yeah, yeah. Humble thanks to the esteemed _Sir Gui Niao_ for his timely intervention.”

Sarcasm dripped from every word. From the momentary expression he caught on Lin’s face just before raising his head and looking away, it seemed he’d surprised the other. Lin’s laughter traveled up and down the entire street with how deserted it was. Shang didn’t really see how this was a laughing matter.

“And did you engage?” Lin asked, somehow even more smug than he was previously when he caught his breath again. “Did you defend my honor?”

“What honor?” Shang snorted. He wrung some of the water from his sleeves as they walked, daring Lin to keep up with his brisk, agitated pace, which he did. “I had no choice. But I told him to settle matters with you in person—which, apparently, he already knows.”

“And you thought to warn me. How considerate of you.”

Shang clicked his teeth and tugged the damp scarf from around his neck, throwing the soggy fabric over his forearm. “Shut up. Even if it’s just for tonight, we’re sharing a room, aren’t we?”

Shang didn’t _care_ , but if they were stuck together for now, it was best to tell him everything. They lapsed into silence for a few steps. Shang kept his gaze intently focused ahead into the semi-darkness illuminated by Lin’s lantern.

“Who was it this time?” Lin mused. It almost seemed like a rhetorical question, but Shang answered back anyway.

“Who the hell knows? Even if I told you, would you know?”

“Hmm, probably not.” They might as well have been discussing the weather with how carefree and light the response was. “The list of people who want my head at this point is quite extensive.”

Shang inhaled deeply. He finally glanced over at Lin again. For once, he didn’t have his pipe immediately in hand; there was no room between the lantern and the umbrella. But Shang didn’t doubt that it was hidden on his person somehow, somewhere. Without any real means of venting his frustration, he settled for snatching the umbrella’s handle from Lin’s slim fingers.

He badly wanted to walk ahead and leave Lin to soak by himself, but by the time he exhaled his breath, most of his aggravation had left with it. He was just tired again. And cold.

“I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again,” he groused. “You’re a real piece of work. You’re way more trouble than you’re worth. Anyone who’d chase after you must be half-insane themselves.”

Given Lin’s preferred prey, that was likely the case. At that thought, Shang recalled the assailant’s mention of ‘Screaming Phoenix Killer,’ and the urge to ask almost overtook him. His eyes found Lin’s side profile, scrutinizing him for once rather than the other way around, before he decided better of it.

The less he knew about Lin, the safer. He already knew all he needed to stay well away from him, and yet...

Lin chuckled as they finally reached the inn’s entrance, and he held the door open for him. “After you, Bu Huan.”

Shang shook his head before complying, swearing that this time would be the absolute last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FESTIVAL DATE ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ)

Shang had meant to leave earlier. Lin was already gone by the time he woke up, much to his surprise—or not? Lin chased after him wherever he went and then left just as easily. Or maybe he wasn’t leaving; maybe he was only giving him the illusion of space. It worked to an extent. Spreading stories about him had worked too; Shang had been forced to find _him_ that time.

Once he was up, he wandered around town, stocked up on rations, patched his clothes, and found the largest tavern. By then, it was noon or a little past. His intention had been a hot meal before going, but when the owner singled him out for a completely new face among a sea of festival goers, he ended up staying past the meal.

Into the third jar of liquor, their conversation had already touched upon a great many topics. The owner was an aging man with a loose mouth and bright red cheeks past his fifth drink. Shang answered his questions in a slanted sort of way, verbal tics and tricks he’d picked up from a certain someone, and the owner in return fed Shang knowledge about Dong Li.

Shang’s main interest lay in the Seal Guardians or, more specifically, their fortresses. He wholeheartedly trusted Dan Fei’s recommendation, but there was no harm in following up either. However, the old man only reaffirmed what the young girl had said—that the most impenetrable stronghold in all of Dong Li was Xian Zhen Fortress. Beyond that, he didn’t know of any other preternatural occurrences or locations, nothing else that could’ve helped him. Instead, he started on a drunken diatribe about the fallen Xuan Gui Zong.

Just as Shang figured it was time to excuse himself, a heavyset woman with a pretty face pummeled out of the back and into their table. She grabbed her husband by the ear and dragged him out of his chair. Shang almost intervened, but it turned into more of a lovers’ quarrel as she harangued him for closing late when they’re agreed on a date at the festival.

Shang quietly excused himself, leaving coins on the table for his drink, and made his way outside. True to her word, it _was_ late. The sun had nearly set, and the streets were lighting up once again with the red glow of lanterns. The skies looked clear today; there was a full moon hanging in the distance amidst pale blue and dark orange. Somehow, he’d lost several hours.

But it wasn’t a complete loss. The owner had gone on a long tangent midway about taxes and the government. Shang had learned a good deal of Dong Li’s political situation from it, which was quite different from Xi You’s after all.

Sighing, Shang watched as the streets started filling again, and music played from a distance. He made out the distinct chords of a pipa within the instrumentals and was suddenly reminded of Lang. Distracted, he almost didn’t recognize the figure approaching him until he was already at his elbow.

“Reminiscing, Sir Shang?” Lin asked.

He held a paper mask attached to a thin, wooden stick before his face and only peeked out from behind it when Shang startled. It was less the mask than it was the other’s sudden appearance and eerily accurate guess, but the mask gave him pause too. It depicted a caricatured demon in all its grotesqueness with red horns, pink skin, and holes for the eyes.

Shang raised an eyebrow at the display. Rather than confirm or deny, he retorted, “Where’ve you been?”

Lin retreated behind the mask but turned such that they stood side-by-side, and Shang could glimpse his expression from the space between paper and skin. He made a lackadaisical gesture with the lit pipe in his left hand. “Here and there.”

For some reason, the vagueness of the answer pissed him off. Shang frowned, and as if guessing his feelings, Lin continued, “Didn’t you say you were leaving in the morning?”

Shang sighed and crossed his arms as he watched a small procession file down the street in bright costumes and cheery laughter.

“I did. I was.”

“And?” Lin prodded, pupils shifting to watch him from the corners of his eyes. Shang got the feeling that they were smiling at and mocking him.

“I got sidetracked,” Shang huffed. His arms returned to his side, and he stepped farther into the busy street. “I’m leaving now.”

“Stay.”

Before he could take another step, the bowl of Lin’s pipe passed in front of his chest. It was a weak blockade, if any, and Shang could have shoved it off easily.

Instead, he threw Lin a wary look. He hadn’t forgotten the other had an assassin on his tail. “What? Why would I?”

“For the festival,” Lin answered simply as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Shang snorted, and his lips curled up in a sardonic smile. He shook his head. “You spread my face everywhere, and you think I’m gonna stay in one place long enough to get recognized? That your plan here?”

Shang could no longer see Lin’s face from this angle, but Lin tilted his head askance and hummed in a very carefree manner. “Believe what you will, but if your concern is being recognized, I already have a solution right here.”

Lin’s pipe hand shifted, and for the first time, Shang noticed that it wasn’t only holding a pipe. Another wooden stick was wedged between his middle and forefinger, mask hanging downward.

Shang’s gaze narrowed. “What’re you getting at?”

Lin sighed. The sound came out melodramatically maudlin. “You’re really quite the suspicious one, aren’t you?”

“For good reason.”

Lin hummed again then moved his hand away. The lip of his pipe briefly disappeared behind his mask, and smoke trails followed. “Do you know what this festival is for?”

Pausing, Shang thought back to his long conversation in the tavern and realized that he’d... forgotten to ask.

“Hm, I’ll take your silence for a no then. You’ve spent all this time running from the villains after your stock that you’ve yet to learn much of anything about Dong Li, have you?”

Shang remained silent again, and Lin laughed at this second stretch.

“Shouldn’t you? You’re likely to be here for a while after all.”

At that, Lin stepped close, and the mask in his left hand changed to his right. Lin lowered his own such that he could shove the second—a mahogany-faced demon with his mouth opened in an ugly wail—against Shang’s chest. The paper crinkled from the effort. Red eyes locked on dark brown ones.

“Weren’t you the one saying that stories can reveal certain truths? Well,” Lin paused and pivoted. “I have a story for you.”

He merged seamlessly into the crowd and was already getting swept away. Shang had a few moments at best before losing him. He made a split second decision.

And followed.

“Go on, then,” he groused when he caught up, half-heartedly holding the mask up to his face in the same fashion as Lin. He noted about half of the crowd, or three-quarters, was doing the same. Several dozens of paper masks bobbed along the darkened, lantern-lit road with them.

He was sure Lin was sporting a self-satisfied smirk if he could see him. As it was, he could only hear it from his voice.

“This festival is celebrated to some degree throughout the country, but it originated in this very town over one hundred years ago.”

“After the War of Fading Dusk.”

“That’s right.” Lin glanced over at him and continued. “About a hundred years ago, Dong Li had another unfortunate brush with the demonic. Nothing on the scale of the war, of course, but enough. I take it Xi You had no such occurrence?”

“Hmn,” Shang grunted. He didn’t know where they were heading, but he assumed it was the town center. The sounds of music and celebration were getting louder.

“A group of six heroes rose up to beat back the demons who’d slipped through and remained in the human realm to rebuild their forces. Xing Hai is a demon after their fashion, if you recall.”

Shang snorted. “Hard to forget.”

Lin paused for a draught and ignored his interjection. “They were only a handful of demons, but they managed to create some fearful and destructive creatures in the century since their defeat. Which they’d decided to release to terrorize the people. Eating men, women, children and the like.”

They arrived at the square, and it was a lot busier than Shang had imagined. He’d avoided this area entirely last night; even when he’d passed through it, the hour had been too late. Now it was teeming with people. An elaborate theater had been constructed in the center, and actors dressed in colorful fabrics were slaying some paper monstrosity with wooden swords. The scene made Shang chuckle as well as the many children laughing gleefully in the seating area. Lin turned his head to look at him but said nothing before picking the path of least resistance around the edge where food stalls and knickknack vendors were peddling their wares.

He gestured at the show playing out on stage. “This village suffered the worst of it. It was nearly destroyed before the heroes came to its defense. So, every year, they remember them by holding a weeklong festival. Six days and nights, one dedicated to each of the four men and two women who protected it. And the last day is Demon Day.”

“Demon Day?”

Lin finally peeked from behind his mask again to give Shang a grin. Shang was barely holding his own to his face. It was more accurate to say it’d migrated to his chin during the walk. Before he could follow up on the question, Lin cut in front of him.

“Six, if you please,” he heard him say to the vendor.

A few more people cut in front of him as well, hurrying to other stalls, and it took him a few seconds to find his way back to Lin’s side. By then, Lin had finished his transaction. He gestured to the vendor’s outstretched hand and the little tied-up bundle within it.

“Hold this, will you?” When Shang made a disgruntled expression, Lin added, “I have no hands.”

As if to emphasize the statement, he took a long, leisurely puff from his pipe. Shang sighed and grabbed the package with a nod of acknowledgement to the man offering it. The bundle was light and small.

“What is this?” he asked before his eyes flicked upward and he answered his own question. Behind the vendor sat a women weaving what looked like silk thin strands into candy.

“Is this—dragon’s beard candy?” The surprise leaked into his tone despite himself, enough for Lin’s mask to fall again.

“You know of it?”

“It’s reserved for nobility in Xi You.”

“Well, it’s a rather common confectionery here.”

Shang’s eyes went to the woman again, pausing to watch her stretch the flour and sugar into even finer white strands. At his elbow, or rather a little farther ahead, Lin laughed. The sound melded into the surrounding chatter, but Shang still picked it out immediately. He bristled lightly and turned to look at Lin who’d trailed ahead without him.

“You’re rather simple to satisfy, aren’t you?”

His grip tightened on the sweets. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing,” he countered when they’d fallen back in step with one another.

“Not at all. It’s rather endearing.”

Shang balked. He didn’t want to hear that from Lin, _especially_ from Lin.

“Why don’t you open it and eat some?” Lin blew smoke in Shang’s direction, and Shang swatted the fumes away with his mask like a fan.

“You bought it,” he returned, implication being that he didn’t covet the debt, no matter how small.

“Hm, a very astute observation, Sir Shang. I like this sweet in moderation. If you refuse, I’ll only end up discarding the excess.”

Shang had already started undoing the string mid-explanation. “Yeah, yeah. Just shut up.”

He was quickly learning that it was easier to give in to Lin than to fight. At least, where these things were concerned.

The paper fell away, and he popped one whole piece into his mouth. It immediately melted on his tongue. There was filling inside too. Peanuts? Shang chewed through it thoughtfully. He hadn’t had dragon’s beard candy in a long time.

“So? What’s Demon Day about then?”

It was getting darker despite their well-lit location and harder to pick out Lin’s expression from the side. Nevertheless, Shang thought he seemed pleased that he’d returned to their previous line of discussion.

“There are a few interpretations. The most common one is that it’s a general celebration of the day the demons were all defeated. Ergo, the masks.” Lin made a small wave with his, and Shang caught a smile from behind it.

“The other—“ He paused to tap spent embers from his bowl onto the ground. “I said that there were six heroes, but there were originally seven. He was the leader of their group—up until, that is, the end of the chaos when he was revealed to be a demon himself. He was banished, defamed, and never heard from again.”

“Returned to the demon realm?”

Lin shrugged. “Or killed. Nothing suggests that he was a demon.”

“You think there was foul play.”

“It’s possible. After all, had he lived, perhaps the festival would not have lasted seven days but only one.”

It wasn’t a happy interpretation from the Enigmatic Gale; Shang couldn’t say he was surprised whether or not the story was true. Rather, it was Lin deciding to tell it to him that way that raised questions. Sighing, Shang dropped his mask entirely and gave Lin a considering look.

Lin gestured silently to the side with an uptick of his brow. Shang took the cue and followed him into a small alcove between stalls. They were nearing the end of the square, but the masses hadn’t thinned in the slightest. Unconsciously, he stood between Lin and the streams of people, giving him some breathing space to do whatever he was doing, as he distantly wondered if there’d be fireworks as there would’ve been in Xi You for celebrations of this size.

Lin held both pipe and mask in one hand and rummaged around in his robes for what Shang assumed was a refill.

“You seem pretty knowledgeable about all this,” he said finally. “Like you were there.”

“Of course not.” Waving aside the insinuation, Lin laughed, but Shang hadn’t forgotten what Xing Hai said when they’d encountered her in that forest. Of course, he supposed she could have just as easily been wrong. “Merely speculation, Sir Shang. I simply thought it would make an appropriate tale for someone of your ilk.”

 _Of your ilk._ He couldn’t tell if there was an insult thrown in there or not.

Lin pressed some fresh flakes into his bowl, returned the pouch back where he’d fished it from, and gave Shang a nod to continue. So they did, in silence for a while. Shang was still trying to gather his thoughts on Lin’s story now that Lin seemed to have finished.

He was just about to open his mouth and comment when a rickety voice drew his attention away.

“Young man. Young man!”

Shang blinked, having stopped and nearly caused the couple behind them to run into his back. They tsked as they swerved around him.

“Oh, sorry,” he offered.

Lin had stopped as well. He was staring at Shang as Shang stared at the little old lady perched on the side of the road, clearly calling for and gesturing at _him_.

“Young man.”

Shang couldn’t help but laugh at that. He hadn’t been called a young man in a long time. But as he approached, he could tell she was advanced in years, having shrunk into herself with age. She squinted at the street, probably not able to see very well. Baskets of flowers sat at her feet. Each one housed a different variety nearly spilling out of their containers.

“Your wife is very lovely. Why not buy her a flower?”

Shang balked for the second time that day. Wife. Who—?

Lin swept up behind him, and the realization clicked.

“I’d like that,” he answered in Shang’s place, still coyly hiding behind his mask.

Shang’s instinct to deny, deny, deny disappeared as soon as a grin split the woman’s face, travelling through her wrinkles to the corners of her eyes. He sighed but not before shooting Lin a discreet and scathing glare. Lin either didn’t notice or didn’t care, probably both.

He leaned forward, and his long, thin fingers ghosted across the tops of chrysanthemums, lotuses, and peonies before stopping on a basket of lilies. He plucked one out, red along the edges and dark pink in the center, and stuck it in his hair at the base of his ponytail.

“Well, Bu Huan?” he asked, grinning at him impishly and bald-faced.

Shang pointedly ignored him. He quickly repackaged the candy still sitting in his left hand, stringing it together enough to hold, and fished a few coins from his pocket.

“Keep the change,” he said.

The old lady beamed and accepted the money with shaky fingers. “I’m sure you and your wife will have many years of a happy union.”

“Aaah, uh, yeah.” Shang rubbed at his nose with his knuckle. “Thanks.”

He gave a short wave in parting and retreated. Lin followed closely after. The lily in his hair bounced with every step.

“Hmm,” Lin hummed. “You went along with that rather easily. And yet...”

“Shut up,” Shang snapped, but there wasn’t much force behind the demand. “Sometimes, it’s easier not to explain. She seemed happy.”

“You, on the other hand,” he continued. “What was your reason?”

“Hmm.” Lin cocked his head to the side in mock thought and bit the stem of his pipe between his teeth. “Maybe—I just like seeing you flounder?”

“You’re insane.” As Shang said it, his eyes cut to Lin, who’d started laughing. The little vibrations shook the flower in his hair. Without thinking, Shang reached up to right it and secure it better.

“Sir Shang?”

It wasn’t until he’d finished that he realized exactly what he’d done. Chagrin crept up his face, but it was too dark to see. He cleared his throat.

“It was crooked,” he explained curtly.

He didn’t stay for Lin’s reaction and quickened his pace. In a few moments, he’d put several steps between them. Surprisingly, Lin didn’t say anything in response or make to follow on his heels. He kept his distance. They passed through the last district like so in silence.

By the time they’d reached the northern edge of town again, Shang had more or less forgotten whatever emotion that’d assaulted him in the moment. He turned to Lin and was about to issue his standard warning not to follow him—more seriously this time—when Lin spoke first.

“Thank you, Sir Shang.” He finally relinquished his mask and stowed it in some crevice on his person. “I was able to make some important reconnaissance. I believe I have a good idea of who’s out for my head now.”

Shang raised an eyebrow. “Say that again?”

“I had my own reasons for wanting to attend...” he trailed off and inhaled from his pipe. “I appreciate the accompaniment.”

If Lin wasn’t giving more details, this was probably as much as he was going to get. That vague feeling of annoyance from earlier returned, but he tamped it down. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to think Lin had been doing other things during their meandering through the square. Still, Shang was—impressed? Impressed wasn’t the right word; it was far too positive.

He shook his head. “So? You’re gonna confront him?”

“Now, why would I do that?” Lin’s grin widened under the glow of nearby torches. “Knowing who’s chasing you simply makes evasion that much easier.”

Shang clicked his teeth and released a hard breath through his nose. “You’re unbelievable.” He threw the bundle of sweets at him without warning; Lin caught it deftly in his now free hand.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Lin tucked the candy away, and then his expression turned... pitying? “Unfortunately, this means we’ll have to part ways for now. I’ll regroup with you once I’ve shaken them off.”

Them? Shang almost asked but restrained himself. Instead, he snapped, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

By then, Lin had already started walking off. He made a short, circular motion with his pipe in the air. “Until then, Sir Shang.”

Shang’s eyes went from Lin’s back to the lily stuck conspicuously in his snow white hair. He snorted irritably before jerking away. Ahead of him, the path was dark and quiet, very different from the town square he’d just left. Around the city wall, there were few lights and people. Shang’s path would only be illuminated by the full moon from here on out.

He glanced down at the paper mask still in his hands and snorted, sticking it in the folds of his clothes before starting on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **heavy breathing**

**Author's Note:**

> me: don't write more tbf fanfic YOU DONT HAVE THE TIME  
> my brain: LALALALALALALALALA TBF FANFIC


End file.
